LaCRYmosa
by erbby17
Summary: It's the only way he's ever known how to express himself: music. And this time, Austria hopes his message can reach Prussia. Song-inspired one-shot. Fluffy Prussia/Austria, hinted Austria/Hungary, humam names.


_A/N: Yet another music inspired fic. But it fits since it involves Austria, right? And especially this song: "Lacrymosa" by Evanescence, which is in fact a "cover" of a Movement from Mozart's Requiem - Lacrimosa. Recently, whenever I listen to this song I get this image in my head and I found it was time to write down how I feel this song relates to this pairing._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, these characters, or this song (which is never really mentioned by name). The belong to their respected owners and writers, even though Austria takes credit to writing this song in the fic. Be aware that it is not his. Also, human names are used and it is in first person, Austria's POV. Please enjoy! And perhaps listening to **Evanescence's "Lacrymosa"** will make your reading experience more enjoyable! :D_

_~*~*~*~_

**LaCRYmosa**

Can you see me? Or is it too dark? I guess that's why the lights are coming up now; so you don't have to struggle to find me in the dark.

Will you notice my new clothes, my freshly cut hair, or my new glasses? I guess not: my back is to the audience right now.

Oh, that thunderous applause; you probably think it's for you. Please don't run on stage, Gilbert, save yourself from such unnecessary embarrassment, even if it's not embarrassing for you. Think about me, for once. Me, and only me…

That's right. I should acknowledge the audience. Acknowledge you.

Odd, I face the performance hall, and I can't hear a thing. The sound of the applause died out long ago and not even the sight of the excited theatre can break my focus. On you. And you alone.

You look so bored, like you don't want to be here. Well, I should have expected that. Whenever I have a performance you always complain. But you still come anyway. And you always sit next to your brother. But, in the front row? Now, that's surprising.

Just one more bow, and then I'll start. Are you ready, Gilbert? This _is_ for you.

One deep breath, baton in position, and I glance at Elizabeta. I know you don't like her much, and she can't stand you, but she helped me with this piece, with this song. I wrote it for you, Gilbert. For us. And it pains me to admit such a thing.

It starts off slow, Mozart's Requiem silently echoing in the background, ushering in Elizabeta's hypnotically emotional voice.

Perhaps this modern spin on this classical piece will perk your interest. Perhaps you'll recognize the hard rock mixed, as ghastly as it is, as a message for you. You always liked those instruments, that raw sound. And you know how I hate it. And that's why I wrote this piece. It's us, Gilbert. The soft, sophisticated sounds of the classical orchestra overpowered by that amped guitar, the pounding drums. You always overpowered me, overtook me...

Elizabeta's voice is ringing, those lyrics that were so hard to write, yet so easily flowed from my hands to the pen to the paper. Elizabeta asked about the tear stains, but I hadn't the heart to tell her what she already knew.

Her love for me…does it surpass how I feel for you? That she can gladly give me up for the bastard that you are, the bastard I know I can't live without?

Oh, this music swells, ringing in my ears, rocking my entire body up on this podium.

I regret nothing, Gilbert. Please forgive me, I need you to know, please hear the words, the music, my voice. And when the violins usher in that last chord, please tell me that you heard it, let me know.

That pause of the audience, unable to gather their thoughts, crashes with their applause. I have to hold back my tears, looking at Elizabeta might calm me down…

Her face…

"Roderich," she mouths, gesturing towards the audience.

I turn, I bow. I spot your face, your shocked expression, those crimson eyes draining of pigment. I stand there, thanking my orchestra, my choir, my band, and my soloist with an arm sweep and meet your eyes, meet my name fumbling over your lips.

You heard me, I can tell. I smile, I nod…

…and you're on stage, making a fool of yourself, making a fool of me.

I'm in your arms and you're shaking, clutching to my body like I'm about to die. And the crowd is silent, that stinging silence that lets me know that not only did you hear my voice but you wanted everyone to know you heard it.

You never change…

"Roderich, the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Your voice, it trembles.

The baton falls; I no longer need it to voice my thoughts.

"I needed you to hear," I say, the lyrics, the music, her voice, all replaying in my head.

"Fucking idiot," you croak, and pull back, your eyes softer, lightly stained with tears. "You're not enough to hold me back."

You know I won't forgive you, not for this overly passionate kiss thousands of people. But I'll forgive you for now, and just revel in the taste of your kiss.

~*~*~*~

_Thank you for reading! Sorry if it seemed a bit rushed or unfinished. I wrote it quite quickly yesterday but still enjoyed doing it. XD_

**_~erbby_**


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